how and when who reaches out to whom,
when friends become acquaintances
and then memories and why or how.
how each one is defined by an idea,
an action or (re)action or (in)action –
mine as much as anything else.
how moments are carved in time
with an image more or less accurate,
perhaps even true. perhaps even clear,
and not just shadows cast on the walls.
one could make lists of all the crazy things
we did, all the stupid things we said,
all the bullshit and bravado
carried into the present and held
near for in(tro)spection.
everything remains too close, i think.
i think about the relationship
between my declining capacity
and my many regrets, or maybe friendship
is a muscle that loses its elasticity;
the way that nostalgia is a trap
we always seem to enter
even though it stands very, very still.regardless, i miss them in myriad ways.